Angels and Demons and Wizards and Hunters
by siobhansgrant
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are tracking down what seems like a mass haunting, and it's all routine... Until the only professional wizard in the phonebook, Harry Dresden, shows up.
1. When Harry Met the Winchesters

**Timestamp:** The timestamp for the Dresden universe is during the opening of _Changes_ (some spoilers, so, be warned) and for Supernatural, it's Season Five (no spoilers there).

**Disclaimer:** None of these amazing characters are mine, sadly, all rights go to their rightful owners.

**Author's Notes:** It's a crossover! Woo! My plot bunnies are running rampant, and this is what happens… I'm a big fan of both Supernatural and The Dresden Files (the books, that is), and what can get better than all four of my favorite paranormal heroes in one place?

"Sam! What the hell just happened?" Dean shouted, straining to make see anything through the dust and rubble of the collapsed building.

His brother shook off the plaster dust that had gathered in his hair. "No idea. All we did was walk in, then the building collapsed."

"_Fuego!_" someone shouted, running down the remains of what had once been the rent-a-office building's main hallway, headed directly towards where Sam and Dean stood. The air went still for a moment before the rubble burst into flames all around the brothers.

Dean stared at the fire and the man still running towards them. "Why can't we ever get the easy jobs?" he mumbled.

"Who _are_ you?" The man who'd been running had stopped, staring at Sam and Dean like they were aliens from another planet. He managed to stick to the shadows well enough that Dean couldn't get a good look at him, but Dean was going to bet that he wasn't a human.

Dean aimed his sawed-off shotgun at the Mystery Man. "I have the gun, I'll ask the questions," he snapped.

Mystery Man stepped from the shadows, the fire making the contrast of his all-black get-up—combat boots, cargo pants, t-shirt and a duster coat that looked like a prop from an old detective movie—with his sweaty paper-white skin even starker. He had what looked like a walking stick in one hand and a .44 Magnum in his hand.

_Witch? But why would a witch carry a Magnum? Seems kind of pointless_, Dean thought to himself. _And he's wearing a pentacle amulet, so he's not a demon. _Another hunter, maybe? But that didn't explain the fire…

"Mine's bigger. I win. Now tell me who you two are and drop the gun or I'll light this whole place on fire," said Mystery Man, keeping his eyes on Dean and his gun pointed at Sam. With a wave of his walking stick, the flames died down to almost nothing, just enough that they could still see.

Sam stared at his brother. Dean just shrugged, dropping the gun but keeping his hand on Ruby's knife in pocket, just in case his suspicions were wrong.

"I'm Dean. This is my brother Sam." _Think of a lie, a good lie…_ Dean had nothing. This mystery dude was obviously involved in something paranormal, but…

"We're hunters," Sam supplied, locking eyes with Mystery Man. "We're investigating a mass haunting that's been going on here. Something big must be stirring up all these old ghosts."

Mystery Man nearly dropped his gun in surprise. "Hunters? You mean, like monster hunters?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. Mystery Man was obviously not familiar with hunters. Whoever he was— or whatever he was—he wasn't a hunter. "Exactly. Which raises the question, who are you? Definitely not a hunter."

Mystery Man was still shocked by the idea of monster hunters, because it took him a minute to realize he'd been asked a question. "Oh. Uh. I'm…Dresden. Harry Dresden. The only professional wizard in the phonebook."

That was too much for Sam and Dean. They both laughed, hard.

"Seriously? A professional _wizard_? Do you think we're stupid?" laughed Dean.

Harry Dresden, Mystery Man no longer, gave Dean a look so poisonous that it could have killed six people. "Do you think _I'm_ stupid? _Monster hunters_? Look, the cops are going to be here any minute. Either we get gone or we get arrested. And unless you monster hunters have some—"

He never got a chance to finish the sentence. Before anyone knew what was going on, there was the sound of flapping wings and a smell like wet earth and ozone, and then both the Winchester brothers, professional monster hunters, and Harry Dresden, professional wizard, were standing in the Winchesters' hotel room.

Castiel, looking as rumpled as ever in his suit and trench coat, stood between Dean and Dresden. "I apologize for not giving any warning, but you were all going to be shot by police officers. I could not allow you all to be injured."

"What just happened? Where the hell are we? And who the hell is this?" Dresden stared at Castiel, waving his walking stick at him.

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. I brought you to Sam and Dean's motel room because otherwise you were all in great danger," Castiel explained, as if it had been painfully obvious.

Dresden laughed. "You want a cough drop or something? Your voice is like gravel." He dropped his gun on the single desk and propped his walking stick on the wall. "No other weapons, I swear. Now start giving me some real answers."

For a moment, Dean wished he hadn't dropped his gun back there. All the other guns and weapons were in the trunk of the Impala, in the parking lot of the office building. The only weapon effective on humans he and Sam had was the demon knife and a switchblade. If this Harry Dresden decided to fight, it was going to get ugly fast for the brothers.

"Hold on there, cowboy, take your coat off and empty all your pockets," ordered Dean. He still had no idea exactly what this dude was, and if anything happened, he wanted to make sure he and Sam had the advantage.

Dresden obeyed without questioning it, neatly arranging everything on the motel room's desk. He had a pocket knife, a sports drink bottle filled with bright yellow goop, a lock picking kit, extra bullets and magazines, an iron letter opener, a big plastic bottle filled with rock salt, a flashlight, and a silver flask.

Sam stared at the things on the desks, trying to figure out a pattern between any of them. Maybe Dresden was a hunter too, only acting like he was confused?

"We're hunters. Monster hunters, like we said. Gravel-lung here is an angel. We kill evil shit together. How much more of an explanation do you need?" Dean said, watching Dresden closely.

"We're investigating what we think is a massive haunting. All the usual signs, all the usual reports of a haunting, but at least fifty separate reports. The office building you blew up and lit on fire was one of the haunted spots, so we were just checking it out when you blew it up," Sam quickly added.

Dresden nodded, but he wasn't really buying it. Who exactly where these kids? Sam and Dean—if those were their real names—were maybe in their early twenties; neither looked old enough to serious "monster hunters", which in itself fairly screamed fake.

And then this "angel" just happens to drop in and zaps all four of them to Sam and Dean's hotel room? And why did anything powerful enough to zap five people instantly not even give off the slightest magical tinge in anyway?

Dresden had struggled for a minute or two to see if any of the other men were just glamours hiding monster, but they were all real flesh-and-blood bodies, even Castiel. What the hell was Castiel, anyway? Castiel looked like some kind of tax accountant or something.

He tried to recall if he'd pissed off anyone recently who'd be willing to go to such elaborate lengths to kill him. Today was just not going his way.

"I'm a wizard. White Council. Kind-of Warden. I didn't blow up the building, by the way. You did. That's just what happens when someone breaks the wards I put around my office. By the way, it's not a mass haunting. I'm pretty sure it's vampires," Dresden explained slowly.

Castiel locked eyes with Dresden, hand outstretched. "This will be uncomfortable," the angels warned, immediately plunging his hand into Dresden's chest with no advance notice.

Sam and Dean had only seen the angel do this once or twice before. Literally going soul-searching was difficult not only for Castiel, but for whoever was unfortunate to need their soul examined. It was energy-consuming for Castiel and uncomfortable on the borderline of physical pain for whoever need a soul exam.

Dresden screamed like a girl, and kept screaming until Castiel pulled back, mumbling something in Enochian under his breath.

"He's telling the truth." Even Castiel himself sounded surprised. "He is a wizard."

Immediately Dresden pulled his coat back on, grabbing the things he'd laid out on the desk frantically. "I don't who you are or what you are, but I am _out_. I don't know who sent you, but I have more important things to do than get soul-groped by angels!" he yelled, yanking the door open and storming out like an angry teenage girl.

Dean counted down under his breath. "Six, five, four, three, two…"

Dresden came stomping back in.

"One." Dean smirked at the wizard. "Knew it," he said smugly.

"I have no way to get home," sighed Dresden. "Whoever sent you to kill me did a damn fine job. Can't even get a door to the Nevernever open, and I have no idea where we are. Who sent you, anyway?"

"We told you. We're not assassins. We're hunters. This is Castiel, an angel. I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. No one sent us. We're here because it's our job to kill monsters and there's a case here. We honestly don't want trouble," assured Sam.

Dresden looked from Sam, to Dean, to Castiel, before he sighed heavily. "I'm a professional wizard, like I said. And if you're surprised by the fact that wizards exist, you're the worst monster hunters I've ever seen. Not that I know many, though." He searched through the motel desk's drawers, finding the standard Gideon Bible and the phone book.

Tossing the Bible aside, Dresden thumbed through the yellow pages.

"Going to order a pizza?" Dean asked. Dresden ignored the jib, concentrating on finding the right page. He had finally met a match for his own sense of sarcasm.

_W… Walking Clubs…Weight Management… Wizards._

_Harry Dresden—Wizard._

Dresden pointed to the entry proudly, practically waving it in Dean and Sam's faces but completely ignoring Castiel. The angel didn't look upset or offended by the lack of attention, though.

"There you go. You've got your soul-groping evidence and now you've seen me in the phone book. Will you let me out of whatever magic-eating spell you put around this place now, or would you like me to do a little song and dance too?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Merlin, but if you've noticed none of us are Harry Potter. We don't do—" started Dean.

"Hex bags? Really?" Dresden pulled the small leather pouch from behind the desk. "I thought you weren't Harry Potter."

Sam bit down on his knuckle to restrain his laughter. His big brother had finally met someone as snarky as him.


	2. It's Relatively Safe

"_That's_ your car?" Dresden stared at the '67 Impala with a mixture of envy and nervousness.

Dean grinned. His pride in his car had been handed down with the keys. The Impala had seen its share of action throughout the years, everything from battles between angels to Sam and Dean's childhood. There was blood on the upholstery that no amount of scrubbing would ever remove, and a little plastic green army was stuck in the backseat ashtray that had been shoved there by a young Sam.

"Yeah. My baby. Nineteen-sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala. It was my dad's." Dean said smugly. Sam just rolled his eyes. Dean would sooner return to Hell than let something happen to the Impala.

For a second Dresden was confused—was the fact it was his dad's something important?—but he didn't question it.

There were more important things to think about. For example, if a '67 Impala ran off of simple enough technology that it wasn't going to combust or anything when a wizard got too close. Dresden's own car, the Blue Beetle, faithful but beaten and battered, was newer than the Impala—not that at first glance you'd guess it—but then again…

Castiel was still staring at the wizard, head tilted slightly. "I must go." He vanished in a flap of unseen wings, leaving only the smell of ozone and wet dirt in his wake.

"Who put the stick up his ass?" Dresden mumbled, yanking the back door open. "Your engine may stop randomly and never work again," Dresden warned, risking it as he slid into the backseat. "Just a fair warning."

Dean gave Dresden a look that Sam had only seen his brother give the things they hunted. "You're kidding me." If Harry Potter here hurt his baby… Well, there was going to be some violence. Dresden might have been taller than Dean, but Dean was relatively confident he could take him in old fashioned, hand-to-hand combat.

Sam sighed. "Dean, we don't have time for this. Vampires, remember?" He slammed the car door shut, watching as Dean thumbed through his collection of tapes. Dean finally picked one, jamming it into the cassette player and adjusting the volume as he started the car.

"_Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more…_"

"Kansas? Really?" Dresden snorted.

Dean turned the volume up. "Driver picks the music, passengers shut their cakeholes. Now, start giving me directions or you can freaking walk home."

"Turn left up there." Dresden was silent but for giving instructions as he studied the Winchesters during the car ride. How did two regular men end up as monster hunters? Was it a family business or something?

And what were they doing hanging out with _angels_? If they were fallen angels, that was one thing; Dresden had seen his share of fallen angels and battled them twice. But Castiel was, apparently, a full-on Angel of the Lord, somehow using a veil that the wizard couldn't detect or a host of some sort, and from the way Sam and Dean had acted around Castiel, Castiel was a regular visitor.

Dresden had only once ever had contact with a real angel, it that was almost just in passing. Uriel the Archangel had given him soulfire and had taken an interest in him, but Dresden had never had face-to-face contact with him. What did Sam and Dean do that warranted so much attention from angels?

This was all making Dresden's brain hurt. He wanted answers, but right now all that mattered was getting back to his lab in the subbasement of his apartment. If he got there, he could interrogate the hell out of Bob, figure out what was going on with the vampires. That was more important than worrying about these "hunters" and whatever their back-story was.

Hell, maybe the spirit trapped in the skull would know something about exactly who Sam and Dean really were.

Dean opened the trunk, popping up the panel that hid the multitude of weapons they kept back there. He grabbed a rifle and a handful of rock salt shells along with the regular bullets, just in case.

"You have an _arsenal_ in your _trunk_?" Dresden said in disbelief. Just looking at the variety of supplies made him realize that these men were serious about what they did.

Wooden stakes, crosses, rosaries, jugs of holy water, packages upon packages of rock salt, hex bags, guns of every kind and their accompanying ammo, iron knives, silver daggers, vials of what Dresden guessed to be inhuman blood, a clay jar filled with some type of oil, a flask of gasoline and a collection of matches and lighters, an axe—the Winchesters weren't messing around. If there was a weapon that could kill it, they looked like they had it.

There weren't just weapons, either. There was a basket filled with fake badges and IDs of all kinds. Dresden spied FBI, CDC, Health Department and CIA badges, but there more that he couldn't quite see in the dawn light. There were at least five different copies of the Bible and what looked like a few other occult and paranormal books, to boot. Diagrams of what looked like Enochian symbols, magic altars, entrapment circles and various summoning sigils were scattered around. There were several cans of red and black spray paint, red wax pencils, black permanent markers and bottles of liquid ink.

These Winchesters were damned _serious_ about this monster hunting thing.

"Hell's bells," was all Dresden could say when Sam and Dean quickly plucked what they'd need from the pile of stuff—guns, bullets, containers of salt, flasks of holy water, fake badges… "My house is relatively safe, you know. I have wards like the ones you saw on my office, and a guard dog and cat. I have a steel safety door…" He let the sentence drop.

Dean stared at the wizard like he was stupid. "_Relatively_ is the key word there. Your place angel proofed, by any chance? Demon proofed? Got any devil's traps? Any holy oil lying around?"

Dresden had insulted faerie royalty and vampire nobility before. He'd been a smartass to fallen angels before. Hell, he'd used up an entire boon from the Summer Court of the Fae on a freaking _donut_ (which, incidentally, had saved his life, but still…).

But no one had ever really been mocking right back. Dresden swallowed what felt suspiciously like laughter as Sam handed him a can of red spray paint and a diagram of some complicated looking binding pentagram trap. "Devil's trap. It'll hold almost any demon, unless they've found a way to break it," explained Sam. "Now, where exactly do you live?"

The wizard stared at the hunters. _Demon_ _proofing?_ _What have I gotten myself dragged into this time?_ Dresden thought to himself, heading towards his apartment.

**Author's Notes**: Thank you to all those lovely people who favorite and reviewed! ^-^ You all get a cookie shaped like Castiel's face. There is major _Changes_ spoilery ahead in the next chapter or so, fair warning, but it's just one big spoiler and I pinky-promise that's it for any more major spoilers. My plot bunny Katy demanded that I take use of it, it was just far too good…The blanket warning for Supernatural season five/six remains in effect.


	3. Hunters and Angels and Enochian, Oh My

Dresden unlocked the steel safety door and deactivated the wards momentarily for the Winchesters.

"Why do we need demon and proofing for vampires?" he asked, mumbling in Latin under his breath. A fire flickered to life in the fireplace, and the candles around the apartment followed suit. Maximum drama was what Dresden was hoping for, and it must've worked, because Sam and Dean looked relatively impressed.

"Because nothing ever is as simple is it should be," answered Sam. He started rolling up the rugs and rearranging the furniture, revealing the cold cement underneath. Dean poured oil of some sort from a clay jar in a circle over the cement while his brother pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew the so-called devil's traps everywhere else.

Dresden was going to say something, but he couldn't come up with a retort. He'd learned that exact same expression was true, many times over.

"Besides, if we were really angel and demon proofing the place, it would be a lot more complicated than this. This is just devil's traps and a holy oil circle." Dean set the clay jar down on a side table, a packet of matches beside it, before tossing a shaker of rock salt to Dresden. "Make yourself useful. Lines of salt at all entryways."

Sprinkling a line of salt at the base of his door, Dresden realized that he just willingly obeyed the orders of two hunters who not only were younger than him, but who he barely knew. He was a wizard of the first order, a true wizard, so why the hell was he listening to two random strangers? What were they going to do?

Suddenly there was a flapping of what sounded like giant wings and the wet dirt smell that always accompanied Castiel's arrival. With no warning, the angel pulled an angel blade from his trench coat's pocket and slit his wrist.

Muttering in Enochian, Castiel dipped his fingers in the blood welling from his wrist and began drawing a sigil on the wall in the blood.

"What are you _doing_?"

Dresden was a tough guy. He'd seen a lot of craziness in his life. He'd seen a lot of violence. He'd seen a lot of powerful magic. He thought he'd just about desensitized to most types of weirdness.

But _angels_? Angels drawing in their own blood on the walls of his apartment? Angels drawing what looked like very powerful magical sigils on the walls of his apartment in their own blood?

Two guys with an arsenal in the trunk of their car and who drew traps for demons and angels as part of the standard practice? Two guys who apparently had enough demons and angels after them that they needed to know how to trap them in the first place?

That was about the quota for insanity Dresden could handle. This was his house, damn it, and there was an angel writing in blood on the walls and two hunters drawing chalk pentagrams on the floor and he was not about to let his house be trashed for the fourth time, damn it.

"Stop it!" Dresden bellowed. Everyone froze, even the still-bleeding Castiel.

"Look, I'm okay with you helping me kill a few vampires! I'm a wizard, okay? I'm used to vampires and hell, you guys might even be helpful! But…angels writing in blood on my walls? Hell's bells, what are you even doing with angels and demons in the first place? Dammit, you are not going to drag me into some angel war—"

That was exactly when the phone rang.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances as Dresden stomped over to the nosily buzzing phone. They watched as the wizard's expression shifted from pissed off to confusion to total bewilderment.

"Um, what? Oh, um. Yeah. Okay. Well, yeah. I'll have to bring my new…friends. But… I'll be there." The wizard set the phone down after a minute and stared at the other three men. "Guess what?"

Dean would have made a smartass comment, but the withering look coming from Sam made him stop. "What?" he questioned, opting to be good for a change.

"I have a daughter."

**Author's Notes**: That's my only spoiler, I promise. The rest is tame! Well, _so far_ it is, but…plot bunnies, man. They can be brutal when they attack you. I know, this chapter is so much shorter than the others, but it's all kinds of crazy at the moment, so writing has taken a backseat for a moment.


	4. Seedy Little Bar

**Author's Notes**: This chapter has been a long time in the coming, I know. But I started classes, started rehearsal for Night of the Living Dead, and started debate league—life got a little crazy and I was very unhappy with this chapter for a long time, so I didn't have a chance to update. Hopefully now that things have settles down a little, I'll be able get back to more regular updates. Thank you again for being awesome and sticking with this story.

"So. A kid," Dean said awkwardly. "I've been there. I mean, turns out he wasn't actually mine, but… You know."

It takes Dresden a minute, but he realizes that Dean is actually being genuine. "Oh. Well. What happened?" Dresden's brain is half-dead, and he's in no mood to listen to any Winchester family tragedies, but it maybe it would distract him long enough to let his mind digest the news.

Dean stared at the wall behind the wizard. "I'm a hunter. Hunting isn't a family man's job. Terrible for long term relationships and great for mentally scarring kids, but the best damned life insurance investments around." He laughed bleakly.

"Sam and I grew up hunting. Wasn't much of a childhood. We never spent more than two months in one place and half the time we were alone. When Sam thought there was a monster his closet Dad just handed him a gun and told him to kill it. Really a family man. I didn't want that for Ben and Lisa."

For a second, Dresden felt sorry for the hunters who so rudely destroyed his office, held him hostage, redecorated his apartment in devil's traps, and had their pet angel paint his walls in blood. But then he remembered the part where they did all of that, and the pity was gone, just like that.

"I'm going to get a drink," Dresden said slowly. He didn't want to leave these nutcases on their own, if not for their own sake then at least to keep any on them, but he kind of wanted to be alone. With his luck, they'd do something stupid and get caught, let Dresden's name slip, and involve him in yet another problem he didn't have time for.

Besides, his car was still parked in the remains of his office building, and Dresden wasn't exactly eager to walk there. After holding him hostage, the Winchester owed him at least a ride to the bar.

"You have a Foo dog?"

It was only the third time Dresden had ever heard Castiel speak, and it was certainly the first time the wizard had ever seen the angel look…well, _excited_. He was staring at the oversized dog like it was sacred or something.

"Yeah. Name's Mouse." The wizard watched as the angel approached Mouse, who sat perfectly still in a corner of the room.

Castiel and Mouse stared each other down for a minute, before Mouse barked twice loudly and started wagging his tail enthusiastically, jumping up to give the angel big sloppy, wet dog kisses. Castiel endured appropriately, talking to the dog in Enochian and accepting the responding barks as if they were answers.

"He would enjoy more meat in his diet and he prefers to be scratched around the ears," Castiel explained, petting Mouse like the dog belonged to him.

Sam, Dean and Dresden exchanged _WTF?_ looks. "You, uh, speak Dog, Cass?" Dean finally asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Castiel did his typical head-tilt, intense squinting-like-I-can-see-your-soul expression. "He is something like a little brother, a lower class of seraph, an angelic counterpart to Hellhounds. He understands Enochian."

"Oh." Dresden stared at his dog, shaking his head. "So you can talk to angels, but you couldn't stop peeing on my rug?"

"He finds your reactions to his urinating around the apartment amusing," Castiel said. It was the first time either Sam or Dean had seen the angel actually express some form of contentment, scratching the oversized dog behind the ears and almost…smiling. It was almost unnerving to watch.

"Drinks are on us. I'm driving." Dean started heading for the door, bored of watching Castiel chat with Lassie the Angel-Dog.

Dresden followed the eldest hunter, shaking his head. "Sounds good." He'd known Mouse wasn't exactly the ordinary dog but…an angel scion?

Not that he was shocked.

Hell, after what Susan has told him—if it was true—he didn't think he'd ever really feel shocked again.

Dresden would safely have bet his life savings that nothing would surprise him for a good long time, not after everything that had happened today. Secret kids? Monster hunters? Freaking angels? His office exploding? Talking to his dog?

The bottle of scotch Dresden had managed to consume probably played a part in the wizard's newfound lack of fucks to give, but then again, it might have been the rage he could feel building in the edges of his mind, or his growing frustration with these damned hunters. Probably the scotch, though.

Yeah. It was going to take a hell of lot to get more than a _"Seriously?"_ out of him.

So, understandably, when Karrin Murphy strode into McAnally's pub, walked over to Castiel, and bitch-slapped an angel of the Lord, Dresden was unimpressed.

"Do you know how hard I am going to kick your ass?" screeched Murphy, not quite yelling, but certainly loud enough to attract the attention of the bar's few other patrons. The pure, unadulterated fury in her voice was enough to even Dresden cringe a little.

Castiel just stared at Murphy with that distant intensity, like a scientist studying a particularly odd animal. The slap had left a red handprint across his face, but he looked like he cared less than even Dresden.

Murphy shifted ever so slightly, taking a better fighting stance.

In retrospect, Dresden should have stepped in right then, but he honestly didn't care, and even if he had, he wasn't really about to come between all five-foot-and-some-change of a pissed-off Murphy and a freaking angel of the Lord. He'd seen Murphy fight before, and there was a reason the tiny blonde had risen through the ranks of Chicago's finest.

Dean couldn't decide if Tiny Blonde Chick was stupid or ignorant. Her courage (or, if you looked at it like Dean did, _stupidity_) would have been inspiring had he not guessed that she didn't know Castiel was an angel.

"You just left Amelia and Claire, you son of a bitch! And you've got nothing to say for yourself?" Murphy was all but shouting now, hands clenched tightly.

Castiel just tilted his head a little further. "I am not Jimmy," he said, speaking at last.

And that was when Murphy decided to punch an angel in the face.

It was a good punch, Dean mused to himself. Well-aimed, with a surprising amount of force coming from such a petite woman. A great punch, actually.

On a human, it would have definitely knocked a few teeth loose and left a nice bruise.

But Castiel wasn't a human.

His head turned with the force of the impact, but he was completely unharmed, and he didn't even look annoyed.

The crunching sound that came with the impact was Murphy's knuckles. Her eyes went wide as she realized what had happened, the pain in her fist shooting up her arm.

"You…You are not my brother-in-law," mumbled Murphy.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, like they were telepathically having a conversation or something. Dresden giggled at the thought.

"My name is Castiel."

"So you're one of Dresden's buddies, just using Jimmy's body?" A little of the anger had crept back into Murphy's voice, but she wasn't about to try to punch the angel again.

"I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel said simply, still squinting at her. "I am 'buddies' with no one."

Dresden clapped his hands, grinning like the raging drunken idiot he felt like. He just kind of wanted everyone to go away, but now Murphy was pissed off and Sam and Dean still were supposed to be trying to help him with this case and why, _why could nothing ever be simple in Dresden's life_?

"Hey, Murphy, these are m'new friends, Sam and Dean and Castiel. They're gonna help me kick the asses of a bunch of vampires."


	5. Nothing Is Ever Easy

**Author's Notes**: At long last, here is the fifth chapter. It's a nice long chapter filled with drunken-Dresden-OOC goodness, Castiel being a BAMF, and Murphy being awesome. Hope you enjoy.

**Author's Note Part 2**: Whoa, guys. Fanfiction deleted my dividers. Fixed now.

"I dun't wan your help," Dresden slurred, trying to give Dean an imposing glare. Instead of coming off as imposing, though, he just looked vaguely constipated. _Kind of like Castiel, _Dean mused, _except less terminally confused_.

Dean half-dragged, half-carried the wizard to the Impala, cursing at himself. _Damn Sam and his bitchface and damn Cas with his puppy eyes_. Of _course_ Sam and Castiel got to stay and talk to the hot little blond cop if she knew anything about the vampires, and _of course_ Dean got to take the drunken wizard back to his apartment.

"Y'know, I'm a wizard," slurred Dresden.

"And I'm Michael's prom dress for the Apocalypse." Dean opened the passenger door and unceremoniously pushed the self-proclaimed wizard into the car. Give the guy enough Scotch and beer (admittedly, it was some of best damned beer Dean had had in a while), and he was a regular chatterbox. _At least Dresden wasn't an angry drunk_.

"I gotta friend named Michael. He's a Knight of the Cross. He used to be real badass but then I got him shot and now he can't do anything, really. I suck at my job, I think. Guy's gotta fucking sword with a Jesus nail in it he got from an angel that kills everything and I still got him fucked up."

_Wait, a Knight of the Cross? A sword with a "Jesus nail" from an angel that could kill anything? _

Suddenly, Dean could care less about hot blond cops. "Can it really kill anything?" The Colt might have failed to ice the Devil, but if Dresden wasn't kidding about this sword, it was definitely in competition for the number one slot on the list of _Things That Could Be Really Useful for Fighting Lucifer_.

Dresden nodded. "Yeah. It totally can cut through metal and shit. There's three swords and I got two of 'em and they're named _Amoracchius _and _Fidelacchius _and _Esperacchius_ but _Esperacchius_ belongs to this Russian Knight named Sanya and don't make fun of his girly name because he's really scary-lookin', but don't tell him I said that, because I'm supposed to be badass.

"_Amoracchius_ belonged to Michael and I dunno where he got it, I dunno if someone gave it to him or what because Sanya said he got his from Michael the archangel. _Fidelacchius_ really belongs to Murphy but Murphy really doesn't want it because she says she has to serve Chicago first because she's a cop.

"So you and your brother and your angel really drive around and kill shit for a living? How does that pay?" Dresden stared intently—well, it looked like he was trying to stare intently, but sometime after his fifth tequila shot Dresden had lost the ability to really focus—at the collection of tapes in the car.

"It doesn't," Dean said quickly.

_If he could just keep the wizard talking, he could maybe find out a little more about these Knights or whatever—and if Sam and Cas were able to convince that Murphy cop chick to let them see the bodies of the sixteen victims (which had been why they'd come to Chicago in the first place) even though they were two supposedly dead wanted men and an angel wearing her brother-in-law like a puppet… _

_Hell, if they closed the case for her, maybe Murphy would be willing to loan them her Jesus-sword. It wasn't like she was using it, or if this thoroughly smashed Dresden was to be believed, even _wanted_ it…_

"So how'd you pay for all that stuff? Like guns…and stuff. You know… Cuz I'm a professional wizard. That's how I make money. 'Snot a fun job but it pays money." Dresden relaxed into his seat, head lolling.

"Identity fraud, mostly. Hustling pool. Sometimes poker. Sometimes we'll get a little something from someone we help. And our weapons don't exactly have permits," explained Dean. _Just keep Dresden talking. Just keep him talking._

Dresden giggled, and Dean did a double-take, because did the big badass Harry Dresden, professional _wizard_, actually _giggle_?

"You and that angel stare at each other like you're having sex or something. It's awkward, jus' so ya know. He looks like Constantine and that's awesome but I never wan'd to see the LL Bean model and Constantine eye-fuck."

There was totally a comeback to that forming on Dean's tongue, but he bit it back._ The Jesus-sword, Dean. The Jesus-sword. The Apocalypse. Lucifer._

"My life sucks ass right now. Like, my daughter is gonna have a really shitty life. We couldn't ever settle down or…you know. What 'm I 'suppos'd to do? Buy a nice car and drive around, raise her on the road or somethin'?" Dresden rambled.

Dean chose not to answer that.

* * *

><p>A hungover wizard, a cranky Dean and an entirely overeager angel of the Lord just did not make a good combination, Sam thought to himself.<p>

Castiel was practically beside himself with joy when he'd started talking with Karrin Murphy, Dresden's cop friend. She was, apparently, a Knight of the Cross—something Sam had only ever read about in a few books, and certainly never imagined existed.

Murphy hadn't even been slightly thrown off by the angel's questions and overeager expression. Sam certainly wouldn't have blamed her; at first, it had thrown him off to see the angel so excited. Yet Murphy didn't seem as overwhelmed as he'd expected, and that concerned him a little. Most people at least had some sort of reaction, adverse or not, and outside of that first incident, she'd just rolled with it.

"Do you even have any real food here? " snapped Dean, glaring at Dresden.

"Of course I do!" The wizard managed to look mildly offended, despite the way he hunched over the sink of the dinky kitchenette, sipping at a Coke and trying to ignore the throbbing in his temples.

"Dean, if you do not find the magi's food suitable for your consumption, you could obtain of more appropriate fare elsewhere. Mouse has informed me of the location of a so-called house of waffles approximately two blocks from this residence. We have work to do, and we do not have time to bicker over the victuals provided by our host," said Castiel.

Dean gestured at the kid's cereals Dresden had put on the table. "This isn't even _food_! It's not suitable for _anyone's_ consumption!"

"Then I will transport us to the house of waffles! Dean, we have more pressing matters than your dietary needs." Castiel raised his palm, prepared to teleport everyone.

"Whoa! Uh, it's okay, Cas, I think we'll be fine driving there. Besides, uh, people won't react too well to us randomly appearing," explained Sam, suddenly feeling like the only responsible adult in the room. "Now, is everyone coming?"

Slowly, Dean nodded.

Dresden nodded.

Castiel gave Sam the trademark angelic holier-than-thou-art expression, and finally nodded.

At least, thought Sam, everyone was quiet throughout the drive and even the meal.

* * *

><p>"The term you are looking for is Grace, Dresden."<p>

Dresden had always prided himself on not jumping easily, but he just couldn't get used to the way Castiel appeared and disappeared seemingly at random. "I'm starting to see what Dean's talking about," he muttered, closing the dictionary of supernatural terms he'd been reading.

"The spirit in the skull informed you that angels are beings made purely of soul and that our souls are much larger than yours. He is not strictly incorrect, but we are not made out of pure soul. It's called Grace, a material that is slightly more powerful than the fibers of a human soul, and we are beings composed purely of Grace.

"Your soul would fit inside of a briefcase, but my true form is larger than the Chrysler Building," explained Castiel, staring at the model of Chicago on the lab table.

"Uriel gave you the knowledge of how to use your own soul to manifest Soulfire, a highly dangerous practice for a mortal, even one like you. You must be careful of how you use it, or you will run the risk of depleting your soul past possible self-repair or corrupting your soul."

"Corrupt my soul?" Dresden slid the book back on the shelf, wondering idly if he should consider having the Winchesters paint some of those protection sigils on the walls of his lab, just in case.

Castiel nodded. "Lucifer was the first to corrupt a human soul and create a demon in such a manner. It does not take much to exploit a soul. The tortures of Hell are generally the cause of corruption, but in some cases magic or witchcraft is enough. It is why you must only use Soulfire to serve the higher cause."

"So you're saying that a demon is a corrupted human soul?" Of all the monsters Dresden had never encountered and never really even thought existed, demons were number one on the list. Hell's bells, were there any other surprises left?

"Lucifer was an older brother, but he would not recognize the superiority of humanity over us. He attempted to show how weak humanity was by corrupting a human soul. Our father ordered Michael to throw Lucifer into the depths of Hell and cage him there. Even with Lucifer locked away, the demon he'd created helped create more.

"Lucifer's cage has now been unlocked and he is walking the earth. The first demon he made destroyed the seals that held it closed and set him free. It is why your assistance is an invaluable asset," Castiel said, and for a moment, he looked like he was reliving the history.

Dresden shook his head. If anyone but any angel of the Lord had told him this, he probably wouldn't have believed them. "So is that your buddies got all chummy all of sudden?"

"The Winchesters are capable of stopping the Apocalypse on their own, though your help would be of great use." The angel actually looked vaguely annoyed, touching the top of the Sears building in Little Chicago gently.

"What makes you think I'm going to help you?"

At that, Castiel turned to face the wizard, a look of ancient wrath so violent that Dresden decided Castiel took the glaring-daggers analogy to a new level.

The angel stepped closer to the wizard, the toes of their shoes almost touching. Dresden could feel Castiel's breath on his neck.

"I am an angel of the Lord. I was alive before your entire species was an idea in the mind of my Father. I have wielded powers greater than even the most powerful of your kind can begin to imagine. I invaded the depths of Hell with twenty of my brothers to retrieve the Righteous Man, and I was the only one who emerged alive.

"I rebuilt the body of Dean Winchester from the subatomic level. I commanded a garrison of my brothers. I could smite you where you stand now before you even had an idea of what happened. I have lived a thousand mortal lifetimes, and I have seen everything, from the dawn of Creation to this very moment in time.

"I have battled archangels and I have slain demons that would give the most wicked of creatures you've battled nightmares. I can strike you down where you stand before you would even have a chance to finish your thought. I am a Warrior of God, and if I desired to, I could throw you into the deepest, darkest corner of Perdition without any difficulty," hissed Castiel.

The candles Dresden had lit were sputtering in the force of an unfelt wind, and despite being in the subbasement, the wizard could hear the storm that had started raging outside.

_Hell's bells. _

"I will not be addressed in such a manner by an insolent wizard," Castiel said, taking a step back but not backing off.

For a moment, Dresden was honestly scared of Castiel. He could feel the righteous anger rolling off the angel, the power roiling under its surface, both more powerful and more dangerous than anything Dresden has ever come up against, than even Nicodemus or Lash or even Mother Winter.

The candles flickered out momentarily, before bursting back into life full-force.

"_I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord."_

The voice comes seemingly from nowhere, powerful, ancient. The glass jars on the shelves shatter at the sound. It was too deep and too high-pitched, too loud and too quiet.

It was deafening, and it made Dresden's eardrums feel like they were going to explode. Blood oozed from his ears, the ringing in his ears echoing. Dresden was pretty sure that Castiel was using his powers to keep him standing, because he can't feel his extremities and he's damn sure that he should be curled up in a ball of pain right about now.

"_I will take orders from no mortal man, and I will not be talked to in such a manner."_

For a moment, it was crushingly silent, before the flames from the candles came roaring to life. Dresden can see the shadow of massive wings stretching from the trench-coat-wearing man to the far corners of the room, outlined eerily by the candlelight.

Then it's simply over, the candles returned to normal flickering and Castiel once again just a guy in a trench coat.

_I just got my ass kicked by a dude with feathers and a halo, and I didn't even have a chance to throw a punch_, Dresden thought, caught between the urge to giggle and collapse from the raging migraine Castiel's new voice had given him.

Castiel laughed quietly, staring at the wizard. "I do not have a halo."

Dresden leaned heavily against the wall. He opted to laugh with the angel. It was probably best not to pick a real fight with Castiel, and it seemed like Castiel was running on a short fuse.

That was when the angel made the mistake of looking Dresden in the eyes.

* * *

><p>In Castiel's defense, he hadn't thought that a Soulgaze would have worked between an angel and a wizard, since angels technically didn't have a soul.<p>

In Dresden's defense, Castiel had been the one to look him in the eyes and once the process was started, there wasn't exactly an emergency stop button.

Sam said Dresden was lucky not to have his eyes burned out and only end up , and Dean made a timely witty mark that involved Dresden being the Harry Potter of the Short Bus, which earned him a bitchface from everyone in the room.

"What did you see?" Castiel asked quietly, speaking for the first time since the accidental "soulonoscopy".

Dresden fixed his gaze on a corner of the wall, studying the way the paint had begun to peel from the plaster. "Everything. All of it. Your true form. God. Your family. Lucifer. Michael. The Fall. Gabriel. Humanity. Hell. Raising Dean. Taking your vessel. Your fall. Doubt. Heaven. Zachariah. The betrayal of your brothers. This. The Apocalypse. _Everything_."

"I…apologize. I did not anticipate that your abilities would work on an angel."

Dean looked from the wizard to the angel. Dresden looked like he'd been hit a truck, which Dean could understand pretty easily—only about ten minutes ago, Dean and Sam had been lying on the floor, hands over their ears in a desperate attempt to block out Castiel's true voice.

But Cas? Cas looked…_embarrassed_. Like he'd been caught in the middle of doing something humiliating.

"But, seriously? Two thousand years old and you still haven't made it to second base?" Dresden laughed harshly.

Dean grinned. "That's exactly what I said."

* * *

><p>Murphy was pissed off.<p>

More pissed than when she'd seen Jimmy—or what she'd thought was Jimmy, anyways—in McAnally's, even.

Because Sam and Dean Winchester?

Two of America's Most Wanted.

Well, they _were_ two of America's Most Wanted, until about a year and a half ago, when they _died_ in an explosion outside a police station on their way to a maximum security prison.

When Sam had introduced them, Murphy had wondered where she'd heard those names before. It had bothered her until the next day, when she'd sat down at her computer and had decided to plug them into the database, just out of curiosity.

Dean and Sam Winchester were wanted for several accounts of first-degree murder, identity theft, credit card fraud, impersonating government officials, impersonating FBI agents, impersonating police officers, breaking and entering, grave desecration and robbery.

They had supposedly escaped about three or four times from both the FBI and the cops, until the explosion, when they had been reported as dead.

Murphy was used to the concept of the paranormal. She could buy the concept of hunters and monsters and wizards. It was logical, in an odd sense.

She hadn't even doubted Castiel, not after he explained that Jimmy was just his vessel. Murphy wouldn't have admitted to it, but all her life she'd a faith in angels—though, admittedly, her idea of what an angel looked like certainly hadn't been her brother-in-law, looking worn out and wearing a rumpled trench coat.

Murphy was okay with all that supernatural crap.

But she was not okay with two supposedly dead, highly wanted criminals just walking around, even if she was pretty sure that most of those charges were simply unfortunate side effects of being monster hunters in this day and age.

Just as Murphy had started to dial Dresden's number, her phone rang.

"Wait, wait, wait. Slow down a second. Wait a minute, did you say the witness said it was a Twinkie? You mean like the food? So we're looking for a six-foot-tall snack cake mascot? Yes. I'll be there. Give me a minute. But, seriously? The Twinkie mascot murdered her husband?"

Could Murphy never have an easy life?

This was the last thing she needed: a new case, and, of course, one of the more insane ones. Apparently the CEO of Wayfield Electronics was, according the sole witness (his wife), murdered by the Twinkie mascot.

Nothing could ever be simple.


	6. Now This, Too?

**Author's Notes:** After losing my computer, having it crash, and resorting to the public library, here, at long last, is the much-awaited sixth part. There is about two more chapters of material left, but I've been going back and forth between two versions and I've yet to decide. Also, I changed my mind; there are spoilers for 'Hammer of the Gods'.

"Dresden, I need you. I've got a case," Murphy whispered into her cell phone, staring at the crime scene.

John Wayfield lay dead, sprawled on top the remains of his kitchen table, blood soaking his clothing and pooling around his corpse.

"Murph, I was pretty sure I was never allowed near a crime scene any more. Cas! I could use your help here for a moment! I got a location! Sorry about that. Look, Sam and Dean have some badges, and no one knows them, and I'm a little busy with other things. They're about as good as me," the wizard explained, practically shouting over a low buzzing sound in the background.

"They're wanted criminals, Dresden. Supposedly dead, wanted criminals. I am not letting them anywhere near my crime scene."

"And so am I. I'm tracking vampires, I'm a little busy, Murphy, this is a huge nest of them. I think it might be the Red Court, and… Oh shit. Cas, what time is it?" Dresden paused for a second, some unidentified male voice shouting something Murphy couldn't quite decipher.. "Hell's bells. Look, Sam and Dean and Cas can help, all right? I've gotta go, I'm late."

The line went dead. Murphy hung up her phone, shaking her head as she stared at the body.

"How'd you three get in here?" Murphy was relatively sure that she already knew, but maybe she'd assumed wrong.

Dean flashed her his best cocky smile and pulled an FBI badge from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "Agents Plant, Page and Odbody."

Murphy gave him a bitchface so perfect Dean momentarily wondered if she and Sam weren't somehow related. "_It's A Wonderful Life_ and classic rock? No one's ever caught you in that one?"

_That stung a little_, thought Dean, shoving the badge back into his pocket. No girl should've been able to resist him when he had the charm on full-blast like that. Maybe Murphy was gay?

"This was not a bear attack," Castiel said slowly, gazing around the room. "Something manifested the snack cake that slayed this man. It would have to be extremely powerful in order to do so."

Sam, Dean and Murphy all gave Castiel their variations on the bitchface. "Remember the time we went to the police station to find Raphael?" hissed Dean.

Cas nodded, expression serious.

"Well, this is just like that. These people, they think it was a bear, and we're going to let them think it was a bear. Understand, _Clarence_?"

After a moment of staring at Dean like he was stupid, Castiel turned back to the body. "The…_bear_…that did this was very powerful. It would have to possess the strength of a pagan god or an angel in order to manifest…a bear in such a manner." He smiled, looking smug for a moment at his (admittedly, quite awful) lying abilities.

"Murph, who are these people?" Stallings wandered over, giving the hunters and angel a look-over.

"I am Agent Odbody. I am employed by the Federal Bureau of Investigations and I am investigating the murder of Henry Wayfield. These are my colleagues, Agents Plant and Page," explained Castiel. He gave the cop one of his intense stares, like he could bore holes into Stallings's soul.

Stallings just nodded, and Sam had to wonder if Castiel had used any of his angelic abilities on the cop. "All right. Murphy, I'll be out getting coffee. You just let me know if you need anything." He smiled dreamily as he walked out of the room.

Yeah, Cas had definitely whammed him with something.

"Fat corporate dick getting killed by a humanoid Twinkie manifested by something with the powers of an angel?" Sam whispered to Dean, looking at the corpse.

Dean shook his head. "Lucifer slaughtered him, dude. There's no way."

The cop who'd been taking photographs of the crime scene laughed. "I'm offended, guys. I manage to hide from the entire Heavenly Host for thousands of years, even had old Mikey convinced I was dead and gone, and you think that my bro could just kill me like that? I'm embarrassed, honestly."

He smiled that shit-eating, self-righteous smirk that Sam and Dean were all too familiar with, and tossed the camera aside.

"So how have you two idiots been handling the world without me?"

* * *

><p>Dresden stared at the Queen of Winter, trying his hardest not to come off as desperate as he felt.<p>

"Can you tell me anything?" he asked quietly.

Mab didn't respond, just continued to pet the oversized fae-cat on her lap.

The silence was crushing.

"Everything has a price, Dresden." The voice didn't come from Mab, but rather from the cat, Grimalkin, but it was enough. The wizard wondered idly if Mab had the same problem with her voice as Castiel. "And I am rather tired of using favors."

Dresden nodded. It was better than nothing. "You help me get my daughter back, you can have anything."

"Become my Knight. Become my Knight, and I will offer you assistance and power," Grimalkin said, voice rumbling with the filtering of Mab's voice through its vocal cords.

"You know, I have other options… Uriel, for one, and there's always the Darkhallow…" Dresden was desperate, but not desperate enough to say yes, not yet.

Mab laughed, the sound harsh and broken, her own voice instead of Grimalkin's.

"Uriel is dead, child. Dead at the hands of Anael, because of the brothers Winchester and Castiel. The angel will do you no good." Grimalkin rubbed against Mab's stroking hand even as he spoke.

"Brothers Winchester? You mean, Sam and Dean Winchester? …And Cas? Castiel?" A sinking feeling pooled in the pit of his stomach.

Mab snapped her head upwards, no longer petting the cat in her lap. "You know of their current location?"

And that, Dresden knew, was going to be his bargaining chip.

"I do."

"Reveal to me their location at this time and I will offer you the full aid of my Court in your search for your daughter, in addition to my aid personally." It was no louder than a whisper, but it had come from Mab herself, not Grimalkin, her voice just as rough as her laugh.

Dresden didn't take too long deciding, but he knew he'd have felt guilty if he didn't ask what Mab was going to with them.

"What do you want with them?"

Even the shadowy light of Dresden's subbasement, he could see the cold smile spread across Mab's face.

"They helped kill my favorite angel, Dresden. I want them to pay for their crimes."

In the back of his mind, Dresden could see Sam and Dean, the way they'd joked with each other at the Waffle House, the endless cycle of sarcasm and pretending everything was okay when it was obvious even to Dresden that it wasn't. And Castiel, Castiel was just an angel trying to stop the freaking _Apocalypse_, pretending that he was fine with the way everything he'd ever known was a lie.

They were just three people who were actually trying to _help_ Dresden. And these days, if Dresden was being honest, people like that were getting harder and harder to come by.

But this was his daughter.

* * *

><p><em>Family always comes first,<em> Dresden thought grimly, nodding. "I'll get you the Winchester brothers and Castiel."

"Don't act so surprised. Did you really think I'd let old Lucy ice me like that? I'm still an archangel. Just because I haven't been home in a while doesn't mean that I've gotten flabby enough to let him kill me that easily."

Gabriel flopped into a chair beside the collapsed table and the corpse, pulling a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapping the candy slowly. "I was wondering how long it'd take you before you guys figured out that there was no haunting and no vampires. Turns out you blockheads are still too stupid for your own good, though, and I had to go and kill Mr. Wayfield here before you got it."

Sam and Dean continued to gape; Castiel continued to give Gabriel his blank look of confusion. Murphy decided to be the bigger one of all of them and make a move.

_An archangel. I am standing before an archangel_, Murphy thought. She was a born-and-raised Catholic; she went to church faithfully and she read the Bible. And now here was something directly from Scripture, sucking on a lollipop and confessing to murder.

She took a deep breath and made her decision.

"You are under arrest for the murder of Henry Wayfield…" Murphy said it confidently, pulling out her handcuffs. _I'm about to arrest an archangel…_

The blonde man smirked at her. "Name's Gabriel. Archangel. And Henry Wayfield wasn't murdered. I'm just more creative than my bros when it comes to smiting cold-hearted dicks. Lightning is so clichéd."

"Gabriel. Why have you summoned us here?"asked Castiel, speaking just loud enough that Murphy could barely hear him.

"Because, little bro. I found a new way to take care of Lucy."


End file.
